


Overloaded

by glackedandmullered



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Anxiety Disorder, Sensory Overload
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-23
Updated: 2014-11-23
Packaged: 2018-02-26 19:12:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2663150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glackedandmullered/pseuds/glackedandmullered
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes it just gets a little too much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Overloaded

**Author's Note:**

> I had a prompt on tumblr 'a day in the life of Michael Jones (bad day) or something?' and I used it as an excuse to write some sensory overload.

Some days are good days. 

Some days Michael can pretend that he can be a fully functioning member of society. The video games help. The youtube videos where he can be whoever he wants to be give him the chance to think; where he can cut out the bits he doesn’t like, pause the game so that he can have some sort of a break to breathe. 

Other days it feels like the world is about to crumble around him, tumble down and crush him into dust. On those days he used to call in sick, feign the flu and spend the day under his covers inhaling hot, sticky air and exhaling for a minute at a time. For the period of time where he’s basically down for the count he won’t eat. Any morsel of food that passed his lips wanted to crawl back up his throat and choke him, sitting heavily in his stomach like an anchor he needed to throw overboard. 

See, crippling anxiety wasn’t an easy thing to live with. 

Calling in sick didn’t work so much anymore either. Not when he lived with his boss - and the other four men he worked with too. They didn’t know about his anxiety, about the pills he used to take until the drowsiness and double vision started impeding on his everyday life and he had to scrap those right away. Deciding the moment he met Ray that nothing good would come of telling him, and then later on everyone else he met as he climbed the youtube social order and made it his job; everyone else he’d ever told had left him, why would they be any different? 

So he’d started working through the bad days as soon as Achievement Hunter became more than a six-person gaming team, and more of a relationship. It made him feel like the earth was going to swallow him up more times than usual but he had to fight through it, no matter how little sleep he started having, or how much time he was losing. 

So what if he was quieter some days, or a little on edge - more likely to snap at everyone for the smallest of things. It was chalked up to Michael’s bad mood and he allowed them to think that way. If only to make life easier. 

\---

Today had been an example of a bad day. 

“Michael.” He slipped the headphones - playing static silence into his ears - down to hang around his neck and turned to see Kdin stood behind him, arms crossed and a frustrated expression on his face. 

“Did you forget to turn your audio on?” Michael searched his memory to locate the video Kdin was editing. Next Monday’s GTA, his brain supplied, they’d recorded it yesterday. Yes he’d turned his audio on, of course he had. He nodded. 

The man cocked one eyebrow and tutted, “Oh really? Because it’s fucking silent.” 

Michael blinked slowly. Had he forgotten to talk? He’d been struggling yesterday, but surely someone would have told him to speak up during recording. Had he ruined the entire let’s play because he couldn’t get his shit together? He wracked his brains desperately trying to grasp at the memory but when he blinked again he realised Kdin was staring at him, waiting for an answer. Hie heart beat fast. 

What had been the question? 

Oh, the audio. 

“Sorry, man,” he forced out, trying to sound like he wasn’t starting to shake. It came out a little hoarse, but he could get away with it. “I was sure I had, it must have corrupted.” 

Kdin scoffed and threw his hands up into the air as he walked off. His heart threatened to burst out of his chest and Michael felt sick. 

Around lunch time he took his shoes off, pulling his socked feet up onto the chair and hugging his knees before slipping the thin fabric from his feet too. As soon as his feet could breathe so could he; it was crazy, he realised, that his feet can feel trapped, but when they felt trapped, he felt more so. 

Gavin, of course, commented on his bare feet in a recording. 

“Smells like mouldy cheese in here,” he said bluntly, making a disgusted face and pinching his nose as he looked at his desk neighbor. Not realising it makes Michael want to bolt from the room, scrub his feet with bleach and scream himself hoarse in the recording booth where no one could hear him. 

He smelled, they must all know it, god how stupid was he?

Instead he let out a slew of breathy laughs and muttered. “Fuck off, Gav,” letting Jack and Ryan take over the conversation while he tried to drown out the roaring blood in his ears. 

It took him another ten minutes to realise Geoff was yelling at him for being stopped still on his respawn screen. He hadn’t even noticed himself get killed, he’d been thinking about getting a Red Bull to perk himself up a bit. Rather than carrying on, he dropped his controller onto the desk, rapidly stretching out the tense muscles in his fist while he got up and walked as calmly as he could out of the office, paying no heed to his boss who was yelling his name over the top of the walls in that exasperated voice that verges on confusion. 

With a Red Bull in his hand, the bubbles burning relief down his throat, he realised what he’d just done. Walking out in the middle of a recording, though not uncommon, was going to raise questions. Questions he wouldn’t be able to answer coherently. Questions he didn’t want to face. 

The space behind the sink in the bathroom became his sanctuary for god only knows how long, until the knocking on the door - that could have been ringing out for an hour for all he knows - reaches psychotic levels of noise and he’s forced to leave his position. Barbara stared at him with narrowed eyes as he opened the door, pushing past him to get into the bathroom. Michael wrung his hands firmly together in an attempt to slow the shaking. The blood roared in his ears again and, in the back of his mind, he realises he’s still barefoot. 

It was a miracle he hadn’t hurt himself with the state that place was in. 

In the end Geoff gave him a - in Gavin’s words - right bollocking for not only walking out in the middle of a recording, but also disappearing for a further three hours. Somehow he managed to hold it together long enough to excuse himself from the room, and made it to the bathroom seconds before nervous vomit tumbled from his lips. He’d only consumed that single can of Red Bull all day, so all that came up was watery bile but it still left him with bloodshot eyes and a heavy stomach. Breathing around the stream of puke proved to be difficult, gurgling noises emitting from his throat as his body tried to inhale the vile liquid. 

The blood pounding between his eyes slowed down in enough time to hear someone open the bathroom door. He knew he should have locked it. 

“You should have told us you were sick,” Jack said quietly, mindful of any headache he may have. The hand that landed on his back should have been calming but instead it left Michael feeling like his skin was crawling and he barely suppressed a flinch. 

“It came on suddenly,” he lied, gratefully taking the glass of cool ice water someone handed him over Jack’s shoulder. 

Blessedly Jack knows what to say. “Do you want me to take you home? There’s still some editing to do but I can come back.” Not even wanting to try and pretend, Michael nodded, a little tension slipping from him at the thought of some alone time at home. 

Ryan - who had been the one handing the water over - held out his shoes without a word and watched with concerned eyes as Michael slipped them on. The tightness immediately settled uncomfortably with Michael, his toes curling beneath the canvas. Reminding himself that he only needed to wear them for a short time, he pushed the feeling away, letting a small smile grace his lips while Jack helped him to his feet and out of the bathroom. He just had to get home, then everything would be okay. 

\---

The covers went straight over his head as soon as he got home. 

Not bothering to turn on any of the lights, he shucked off his shoes, revelling in the way his head cleared a little. The rest of his clothes were tossed to the side in the hallway, on the stairs, and just outside the bedroom door before he could return to his smothering sanctuary. For a while he laid there, torn between the need for nothing to be touching him, and the desperate need to be hidden completely from the crushing power of the day. 

In the end he keeps the covers over his head, even though the sweltering heat has him sweating into the sheets uncomfortably. The hot air feels heavy in his lungs, keeping him grounded for the rest of the afternoon until he hears the telltale sounds of a car pulling into the driveway and realises he’s lost most of the day just lying there thinking about nothing. 

They come back in a flurry of activity, all pounding feet and whirring kitchen appliances. Thankfully most of them stay quiet when it comes to being right outside, only Gavin decided to be an asshole, standing right outside the door, shouting down the stairs so loudly it felt like his voice was grating right down through Michael’s skull. 

The door opened a number of times, quiet voices speaking to him but he wasn’t quite ready to face them yet, so instead he ignored them, remaining silent in his fort of heat. 

After a while he could tell it was dark out, and the pitch black surrounding him was soothing. 

Behind him the bed dipped, mattress creaking as someone lifted the covers and slid under. A bare leg touched his, and it was a testament to the power of alone time that he managed not to move, continuing to feign sleep. 

“Sorry I yelled at you sweetheart,” Geoff mumbles, placing a kiss to Michael’s forehead sleepily and rolls over to face the wall. 

He couldn’t tell if they had retrieved another blanket or whether they were sleeping on a sheetless bed but either way no one moved the covers from over his head as more bodies joined him on the bed and he was sandwiched in the middle. 

Any progress filtered away in the night as he was left with his own thoughts, trapped between Geoff and, going by the sweet smell, Jack. 

\---

The next day turned out to be even worse. 

Having not even succeeded in achieving two hours sleep in the night, he started the day not only anxiety ridden, but tired as fuck too. 

“I wish I could tell you to stay and get some rest, but we need you today.” Geoff said apologetically as he filled the travel mug to the brim with steaming hot coffee. Michael laid his head down on the countertop and groaned. 

“You can go home early if that helps?” Michael groaned again and someone ruffled his hair, chuckling. The touch struck him like lightning and he leapt back off the chair so fast that his legs got tangled in the chair; stumbling, he only just caught himself from landing on his knees. Jack and Geoff were both staring at him like he’d grown another head and he quickly turned his grimace into an embarrassed smile. 

“Sorry, headache.” It wasn’t exactly a lie. 

A moment later he was handed a couple of aspirin and a glass of water. He downed them thankfully and prayed that the drug would settle him down a little. 

He could sure do with a quiet mind. 

The office was busy that day. The middle of the week was normally when every one of the - seemingly thousands of - employees appeared to converge on the building.

He bumped shoulders with people as he staggered unevenly through the halls. 

They suggested going out for lunch, just a burger joint down the road - but the thought of all those people, all that noise - Michael shuddered at the very idea. Denying them was all too easy and yet painfully difficult at the same time; Gavin huffed and asked ‘why didn’t you just stay at home today?’ before stomping out like a petulant child and, even though Geoff assured him that Gavin was just in a dumb mood today, Michael couldn’t help feel bad. 

“I’ll bring you back a burger, yeah?” Ray said to his back as he moved his mouse aimlessly on the screen, the blaring screen burning into his sensitive eyes. Unable to think past the pounding in his head he must have nodded because Ray replied ‘deal,’ and left without another word.

“Stop being so stupid.” He hissed to his reflection, curled up fists pounding on the sink with vigor. 

He didn’t remember going to the bathroom, all he recalled was the static buzzing from all the computers in the office eating into his concentration and nerves. 

Hot tears streamed down his face but went completely ignored as he stared himself down. His legs shook as they struggled to hold him up in exhaustion, feet bare and sensitive on the concrete floor. He could tell something was coming by the itch in his skin, pulsing blood raising the hairs on his arms to stand to attention; not to mention the fact that it was becoming increasingly difficult to breathe with all this noise. 

“Whoever’s in there, I need to pee.” It sounded like Blaine outside the door, each knock reverberating through Michael’s skull and it was like the switch had finally been flipped. His knees went weak, threatening to collapse, and the color drained from his face so fast he felt dizzy. He had to use the wall as leverage to get to the door without falling to the floor. 

Blaine didn’t question his appearance, apparently too focused on his need to relieve his bladder. 

Michael leaned against the wall breathing heavily. His skin was crawling, hands shaking, and his bare feet touching the concrete felt like he was standing in lava. 

_Need to go, need to hide...need to hide._

\---

Ray noticed. 

Michael thinks he’s being subtle but Ray, having known the man for more years than he could count at this point, knew when something was off. He could see the twitching, the restlessness, the quickening of breaths anytime someone got close to him. He didn’t know what had suddenly changed, what had happened to make Michael look like he was about to break down, but he knew he couldn’t sit back and wait for his boyfriend to come to him. It would never happen. 

The last sign came in the form of Michael’s refusal to go to lunch. It was his favourite meal of the day; a chance to take a break and scoff down some delicious food, and he said no. 

So maybe Ray encouraged his boyfriends to eat a little faster, to pay a little quicker and to leave with half of their lunch break still remaining. Maybe he wanted to check that Michael hadn’t passed out and died from a hidden illness while they had been gone. 

Except when they pulled into the parking lot and Ray booked it out of the car into the studio, he couldn’t find Michael anywhere. A quick sweep of the office says he isn’t there, and a circle around the rest of the studio tells him the curly haired man wasn’t anywhere to be seen. 

Returning to the office, he pulled out his phone, typing out a quick text to Michael. It took ten seconds from the moment he clicked send for a phone to vibrate against a desk. Michael’s desk. 

It was then that he heard the whine, the ‘wounded puppy’ whine that made him snap to attention and edge towards the wall were the lads desks were lined up. Then it was the movement behind the chair tucked under Michael’s desk that made him really perk up and his heartbeat race. 

Michael was under his desk.

Curled up into a tiny ball, so small that Ray wasn’t entirely sure how a man of his size could contort his body to that level - and he was shaking. Fine tremors shuddering through his limbs and it made Ray fall to his knees to that he can get onto Michael’s level. 

The man had one hand cupped over his ear, his head twitching every time a sound passed over the office walls. Michael’s other hand pretty much covered his face, with his index finger pressed so hard against the centre of his forehead that the fingertip was bone white, practically indenting his skull. 

“Hey Michael, you- uh- you okay down there?” he asked, looking around for any back up he could grasp onto. Not entirely sure what was about to happen, he could do with another set of hands. 

Michael whimpered in response and cupped his hand tighter over the side of his head, his head tilting so that his shoulder almost blocked the other, exposed ear. His eyes remained screwed shut. 

Lowering himself down to Michael’s level, he pushed the wheely chair away to see the lad more carefully - the chair collided with Gavin’s and Michael’s head popped up briefly in shock before he returned to his original, crushed position. 

“Michael.” Ray said quietly, Michel let out a whimper again. 

“Michael.” Louder this time and the man flinched so hard that his head bounced off the wall and the whimper he let out was full of pain. 

“What’s happening? Is it a migraine? Are you sick, should I ge-”

“S-stop.” Michael hissed out through clenched teeth. “ _Please._ ” 

The words were so forced, so drawn out they sounded painful, and it hurt Ray to hear Michael speak like that. Making a split second decision he leapt to his feet, being careful not to leave the door open behind him but paying no mind to the slam from wood clicking back into place with force. 

He was absolutely unprepared to be running from room to room after such a big, and rushed, lunch. Wishing that, for once, someone could just fucking _stay put_ he darted in and out of offices before making for the main annex. 

Ryan was leaning over the kitchen counter talking animatedly to Lindsay when Ray found him. The former snapped his head up as Ray rounded the corner, breathing heavily and clutching his stomach in pain. 

“It’s Michael.” Ray panted, limping over to the table and grabbing Ryan by the fabric of his t-shirt. “Something’s wrong.” 

Ignoring the cramp shooting through his stomach, Ray lead his boyfriend back towards the office, barely noticing that Lindsay had dropped her lunch on the counter and followed. 

Ray’s heart dropped into his stomach as he opened the door.

“Shit.” 

Instead of sitting hugging his knees as he had been when Ray had left, now Michael had slid completely onto the floor, curled up in the fetal position with his arms up, hiding his face entirely from view. Ray darted forward, practically skidding on his knees for the last foot as he dropped to the ground beside his boyfriend and started pleading, begging Michael to tell him what was wrong.

“Get the headphones from under my desk.” Lindsay said barely seconds after seeing the state Michael was in. “Just go.” She added, looking at Ryan who stared, dumbfounded at his boyfriend. 

“Ryan.” She hissed sternly, giving him a solid shove to the chest to get him moving. It worked and he darted around the corner into her office. 

She turned her attention to Ray and rolled her eyes. 

“Ray, step back.” Not sparing him any niceties he was pushed to the side, sliding forward again, but staying out out of the way as Ryan returned with a pair of large, black headphones in his hands. He’d never seen Lindsay wearing them before. 

“Michael you need to sit up.” She spoke in a whisper. Slow, calm, and soothing, and it made Michael listen. His body flinching as he used whatever depleted energy supply he had to force himself up. She smiled. 

“Good, well done sweetheart.” It was weird to see his boyfriend reacting like that, reacting to Lindsay’s pet names, but he wasn’t about to complain about the woman helping him with something he couldn’t begin to comprehend. He felt a knee touch his and broke his gaze for a moment to notice Ryan had sat down beside him, looking concentrated but nervous. 

“I’ve got headphones for you - can you move your arms?” Even though he whimpered as soon as his head was raised, Michael obeyed, and Lindsay gently covered his ears with the headphones. 

The reaction was instantaneous. He didn’t uncurl from his ball but some of the tension holding his body rigid bled away, and a sated sigh escaped his lips. Loosening the grip on his knees, Michael let out a shaky breath.

"This is worse?" Lindsay muttered, tutting lightly when Michael nodded. He cringed and wined like a wounded puppy. 

“It’s okay.” She knew he wasn’t looking at her lips now, and with the noise cancelling headphones silencing the world around him, there was no way he could hear her soft words, but the comfort wasn’t necessarily for Michael. 

The two behind her sat still like statues, as if afraid that one movement could set Michael off into pain again. Even though they hadn’t a single idea about the original cause. 

“One more thing and I can explain, I promise,” Lindsay said softly, standing up and brushing carpet fluff from her shorts. Michael squeezed his eyes shut one more as soon as she left his line of sight. 

Swiftly she passed them both, rustling about in the thugs office before reappearing with a bundle of spare clothes. "I need shirts, jackets, anything you can get me," she instructed, piling the clothes in her arms up onto the chair and carrying on around to Gavin’s desk. 

Ray found himself distracted in his task, gaze remaining on Michael for most of the time that he was meant to be foraging. He managed to acquire a t-shirt screwed up under Geoff’s desk, and a couple of new design samples Jon had left behind before Lindsay gently took them from him, reaching past him to take from Ryan too. 

As soon as they were relieved of their loads, Ryan’s hand found Ray’s and held tightly. 

She moved briskly then, methodically lining the edge of the desk with the shirts, letting them hang down until Michael was completely hidden from view. Pinning the fabric down with heavier items gathered from the various desks, Lindsay double checked the makeshift fort walls, shifting the shirts around until no gaps could be seen. 

Barely audible, Michael let out the longest, slowest, sigh of relief Ray had ever heard. 

“Now we wait.” Lindsay said quietly, appraising her work. Ryan frowned.

“Wait for what?”

Without saying a word Lindsay smiled and ushered them out of the room. They dared not speak again until all three of them were out in the corridor and the door had been closed behind. 

“We have to wait for Michael to be ready.”

“That doesn’t answer anything.” 

“It’s called sensory overload,” she said bluntly, leaning her back against the wall. “A common occurrence for people who have autism.” Ray opened his mouth with the comment that Michael didn’t _have_ autism, but she stopped him. 

“It’s slightly more uncommon, but it can also be found as a symptom of anxiety disorders.” Ryan’s mouth opened and closed like a fish, and unable to determine what should be said, he grimaced and scrubbed a hand over his face.

“He had an attack in the old office once,” she continued, blinking slowly as she remembered the day. “He was behind all the equipment in the warehouse. I didn’t know what to do and I panicked - I panicked and it only made it worse.” Her voice was shaky and Ryan couldn’t help the urge to pat her on the back and show some comfort despite the fact that he still felt so very lost in all of this. 

“I made him explain once he was done nearly passing out. Since then I’ve kept an eye out. I just didn’t see it this time.” The look in her eyes screamed shame, like she had decided that she failed him.

Ryan exhaled slowly and squeezed Ray’s hand where they were still joined. 

“How many times has this happened?”

“A few,” Lindsay confessed.

Ray slid down the wall, eyes wide and heart beating fast. He couldn’t understand why he had never noticed. He saw _everything_ with Michael. Yet he had completely skipped over the one thing that was important. 

“Don’t beat yourself up, Ray,” Lindsay soothed, brushing his knee with her hand. “He didn’t want anyone to know.” 

It was hard explaining to the others why they couldn’t go into the office for the rest of the afternoon. Gavin came barreling towards him like a hurricane and every muscle in Ray’s body worked together to snap himself up to standing before Gavin could burst through the door and ruin everything. 

“Trust me. Don’t go in,” Ray pleaded with Gavin, and again with Geoff and Jack later on when they arrived too. 

“Ray, fucking move, we had shit to do,” Geoff said, threatening him with the knowledge that he wouldn’t hesitate to kick him out of the way. 

“Look, something happened with Michael.” His words were tired, exhausted even. “Just leave him alone in there.” Luckily Ryan came back to save the day before he had to explain any further. 

Ray was alone when the door clicked, cracking open slightly just enough for Ray to see half of Michael’s face appear in the space. 

“Michael!” He said excitedly, beaming a smile at his boyfriend. One that Michael didn’t return.

“Sorry, Ray,” he whispered, his one visible eye downturned to the floor.

Ray sighed, swivelling around to face Michael better, though he stayed sitting down all the same. “You scared me,” he confessed with no malice behind the words.

“Sorry,” Michael repeated, slightly choked up and Ray leapt up as he started to shut the door. _Stupid, stupid, don’t joke with him now._

“Hey, no!” Ray stopped the door with his foot and studied Michael though the crack. “Let me in?” 

Sighing, Michael nodded and opened the door enough to let Ray through before clicking it shut again behind him. 

Immediately Ray moved forward to grab hold of his boyfriend but stopped short at Michael’s small step back. Moving slower, he opened up his eyes and looked, pleading at Michael. 

“Can I…?” Thankfully Michael only thought about it for a moment, nodding slowly and practically melting into the hold as Ray wrapped his arms around the man’s back and tucked his head into the hollow of Michael’s neck. 

“You should have told us,” he murmured against the exposed skin, feeling the heartbeat match up with his under the shirt. 

“I know,” Michael confessed, sniffling a little but not making any move to release himself from the hug. “I didn’t know how.” 

“Now you need to teach me,” Ray said firmly, pushing Michael away to arms length and holding him there, palms flat against the other man’s shoulders. “So that I know what to do in the future,” he clarified.

Eyes filling with grateful tears, Michael let them fall. He grasped Ray’s face, large hands covering his cheeks, and Michael pulled him closer until their lips met. Warm and reassuring, the tears smearing between their faces but he didn’t care. 

He just wanted to know how he had ever gotten this lucky.


End file.
